


Spiritual awakening

by crayyyonn



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirits, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: A mortal, an exorcist, and a poltergeist walk into a bookstore.Alternatively, Jinyoung wants to work in peace, Jaebum wants order between the living and the dead, and Yugyeom just wants closure.





	1. Jinyoung

The bookstore is Jinyoung’s lifelong dream.

Sure, said dream is only a quarter of a century’s worth, quantifiably less than Yugyeom’s entire life plus decades of afterlife. But it doesn’t diminish its significance any; in fact, it makes it even more vital that his venture is a success, he argues with the ghost, so won’t it just find some place else to haunt for the next, oh, fifty years or so?

As usual, his pleas fall on deaf ears, and he flinches when the vase next to his cash register crashes to the floor. Thankfully, he’s switched from glass to plastic after spending a whole afternoon picking up shards, but the fact that the vase remains whole amongst its funeral bed of cold sugared water and long stemmed flowers seems to enrage Yugyeom, because the next thing Jinyoung knows, the clock on the wall behind him shatters on the floor.

Jinyoung doesn’t have to strain his ears to hear the cackling, or try very hard to imagine the ghost blowing a raspberry in his direction.

And really, this has to be the last straw.

 

“I can’t believe you’re only telling me now,” Mark comments.

He’s placid as ever as he picks his way across the entrance to the counter, careful not to step on the puddles. Behind him, the door clicks shut with a jangle of bells against the ‘closed’ sign. Jinyoung smiles tiredly at him.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

And he still doesn’t, but sales are plummeting, not only because Yugyeom tends to pile on the dramatics the more people are in the store, but also because more books are being returned with illegible scribbles (Jinyoung has no idea how Yugyeom got into any ink), dogeared pages, or whole pages torn out. While one is par for the course for pre-loved books, all three together proves too much even for the most dedicated of book lovers.

“I’m your boyfriend, I think you’re well within your rights to worry me.”

Mark’s tone brooks no argument, so even though Jinyoung really wants to question the relationship status he’s just tacked onto this thing they’re doing for three weeks, he refrains. A spark of happiness lights up on the inside though, the warmth traveling up his neck to his cheeks.

There’s a nudge at his hand, the one clenched into a fist on his notepad, hidden behind the tall counter. He looks down to see words forming on the yellow lined paper.

_your red stupid_

And really, this is probably why the books are being returned—scribbles and torn pages can be tolerated, but certainly not terrible spelling and grammar.

“I figured it would be okay since it has been a tolerable two years, but he’s become really easily agitated recently.” Jinyoung drops his voice down to a whisper. “Sensitive.”

_not sensitif!!!_

“Very sensitive,” he snorts. There must have been something in his voice, because Mark looks up from where he’s examining the mess on the floor, gaze sharp.

“Don’t move.” He’s stood up in a flash, starting to step forward, then stops mid-step. “He’s gone.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widen. “You saw him?” Because he never has, not in the two years he’s cohabitated with Yugyeom. Neither have any of his customers, he would have heard of it if they have.

“Not quite,” Mark says. “I saw an aura, a fuzzy one to be sure, but it’s there. My sight isn’t strong enough to see beyond that, but he’s also not very strong, I think.”

Jinyoung winces, praying that Yugyeom really wasn’t around to catch that. For what it’s worth, he disagrees with Mark’s assessment—if anything, Yugyeom seems to have grown stronger in recent weeks, the destruction he’s causing more severe by the day. Still, he goes gratefully when Mark wraps his arms around him, seeking the comfort offered. Mark presses a kiss on the side of his neck, then his shoulder. Jinyoung breathes in the scent of his shampoo, familiar but still new enough to be thrilling. Too soon, Mark is drawing back.

“Don’t worry Jinyoung, I know just the person to take care of this.”

 

For an exorcist, Jaebum is very young.

“We were classmates in uni,” Mark says by way of explanation. “Jaebum comes from a long line of seers, his gift is much stronger than mine.”

“You look very young,” Jinyoung says, dubious.

Jaebum’s already narrowed eyes narrow even more. “I’m older than you.”

“Actually, you’re not, Jinyoung is just a year younger than me, so you’re the same age.”

“Not unless he was born before the lunar new year.” Jinyoung shakes his head, because he wasn’t. “There, see? I’m older.”

Mark arches an incredulous brow but doesn’t press the subject, which is wise. Jinyoung pats himself on the back for choosing well.

“This is where the spirit was last at, correct?” Jaebum has rounded the checkout counter, inspecting the wall behind it. He knocks three times. “Hmm.”

Rounding the counter, he asks Jinyoung to direct him to where he first felt a disturbance. Jinyoung brings him to the seating area at the back, where he’d put in a bench along the wall of windows. One of the pillows is propped up against the column bracing the bench instead of against the window where Jinyoung knows he left it the night before.

For nearly two years, this was the only place Yugyeom touched. He hadn’t been destructive then, so Jinyoung had left him to his own devices, which was typically neatly arranged cushions in disarray, a book or two strewn on top. He’d found it amusing that all the ghost seemed to want to do was read, and to be honest, Jinyoung could relate.

They follow Jaebum as he walks around the store, Jinyoung watching the way he runs his fingers over the shelves they pass by, muttering something under his breath as he rings a bell in his hand. He nudges Mark, who shushes him and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers.

“He’s working.”

When Jaebum is done, they’re back at the front of the bookstore.

“You live upstairs?”

Jinyoung nods. “But Yugyeom—that’s the ghost—has only ever been in the store. I’ve never felt him upstairs.”

“I see.” Jaebum hands Jinyoung a small, sachet. “Carry this on you at all times,” he instructs. “Make sure it stays sealed.” He watches Jinyoung accept it and tuck it into his wallet, then produces several strips of paper with hieroglyphics on them. “Put these around your doors and windows, they’ll keep the spirit out, or trap it within if it’s already within the barrier. One way or another, it won’t be able to disturb you. I’ll come back tomorrow to deal with it.”

“But that means Jinyoung will have to stay here tonight with it,” Mark argues.

“He’ll be fine, I couldn’t detect any malicious intent. And if the spirit has contained its mischief to just the store for the last two years, it won’t start now.”

“But—”

Jinyoung squeezes Mark’s hand. “I’ll be fine, Mark. Yugyeom has never hurt me.”

Mark looks unhappy despite Jinyoung’s reassurance. “You know I would stay with you if i could, right? But I have to be at the station tonight, we’re already two people short.”

“I know, don’t worry. I’ll dial 119 if I need you.”

“That’ll only patch you through the operator, call me directly if you need me,” Mark insists.

He still looks worried, adorably so. It’s a good look on him. Smiling a little, Jinyoung leans forward to give him a quick kiss. Mark hums into it, draws him in closer. Through half lidded eyes, Jinyoung sees Jaebum turning away, a look of disgust written all over his face. Whatever, Jinyoung could care less.

 

Jinyoung is pretty sure the message hadn’t been there when he stepped into the shower earlier.

_i cant believe your trying to exercise me_

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Wrapping the towel tighter around his hips, he calls out, “It’s exorcise, not exercise. With an ‘o’. And you really need to learn the difference between your and you’re.”

He corrects the mistakes with a finger just before the fog dissipates from the mirror, frowning when it mists up again, followed by the very pointed appearance of _You’RE an asshole._

“Capitalization and punctuation, well done.”

Exiting the bathroom, he makes his way to the wardrobe. Pulling the shirt and sweatpants he usually wears as pajamas, he says, “I’m surprised you’re up here, you’ve only ever been in the store.”

He’s isn’t sure what sort of reply he’s waiting for, but then he sees the paper strip around his window flutter. Yugyeom must have been in here when he stuck them up, trapping him inside, he realizes in a flash. He feels a slightest tinge of guilt, then quickly shakes it away. It’s the ghost’s fault. If he hadn’t acted out, he wouldn’t have accidentally revealed to Mark the fact that he’s for all intents and purposes, cohabitating with a ghost, and Mark wouldn’t have called Jaebum. It was never his intention to get rid of Yugyeom.

He tells Yugyeom all this, attuned to every flickering shadow in the room. It takes a while but then he sees it, the little indentation on the pillow on the right side of the bed, the one he doesn’t use. Relieved, he steps toward the bed and slides under the covers, laying on his side so he’s facing the empty half of the bed.

“I’ll take down the papers tomorrow,” he promises. The ghost of a touch on his cheek follows him into sleep.

 

“You have to let me exorcise him.”

Jinyoung folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t have to let you do anything.”

“But he’s a spirit, he doesn’t _belong_ here.” Jaebum’s scowl is one full of irritation and impatience but Jinyoung stands his ground.

“But this is my store, and I want him here.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees the label strips—he’d been in the middle of pricing when Jaebum barged in—shifting, the marker he’s using to mark down prices rolling around slightly. He turns his attention back to Jaebum.

“I’ve lived peacefully with Yugyeom for most of the time I’ve owned this store, I can continue to do so. Now, if you please, I have a business to run.”

He holds out a hand towards the door. Then he takes the same hand and covers his face with it, because Yugyeom blows the door open, slamming it against the wall. The glass panels shatter.

Jaebum’s look is smug. “You were saying?”

Oh, Jinyoung is going to kill Yugyeom, incorporeality be damned.

“He’s being a brat. We discussed the situation and came to a gentleman’s agreement last night.”

“You can’t have a gentleman’s agreement with a ghost, did you even shake on it.” Jaebum’s flat look raises Jinyoung’s hackles. He wishes Mark were here. Why did he tell Mark he could deal with the exorcist alone?

“We—”

What he wanted to say next is immediately interrupted by a tinkling of glass. Looking up, he sees the small chandelier, a relic from the old space when he’d taken over it, shaking hard enough for the glass tassels to clink against each other. It threatens to shake itself loose, except Jinyoung knows the old fixture isn’t becoming sentient, it’s the other occupant of the store that has been listening in on their conversation.

He wants to make him stop but Jaebum is already chanting, raising a hand and drawing what Jinyoung assumes are symbols in the air. Squinting a little, he sees them flash into existence before disappearing, like dust motes in sunlight. They’re nothing like what he’s ever seen before, not even what he’s flipped through in the oldest tomes in the store.

The clinking doesn’t stop. Instead it presses on, with a vengeance and a force that begins to knock tiny pieces of plaster and a whole heap of dust off from above their heads and onto the floor and well, Jinyoung has had quite enough.

“Yugyeom!”

His yell is exasperated, echoing off spines of old books and making Jaebum jump mid-symbol.

“Could you not.”

Jinyoung shrugs. The shaking has stopped, at the very least.

Jaebum’s chanting picks up and quickly crescendos, authority and command laced through every syllable. It’s oddly compelling, especially when he punctuates it with a violent downward slash of his arm. The silence that follows is ringing, like it’s making a space for something significant.

One beat. Two.

And then Jinyoung sees it, a shadow materializing in the aisle between the historical fiction and autobiography shelves. It grows until it’s about Jinyoung and Jaebum’s height, then a little more. The more the sunlight hits it, the more distinctive it becomes. It quickly solidifies into a head, torso, and limbs, except solidify probably isn’t the right word for it, there’s a very insubstantial quality to it, like the shimmer of a mirage in the heat, and Jinyoung can still see the back of the store through it.

Through _him_.

“You’re a kid!” Jinyoung exclaims. Because even though he turns out to be taller than both him and Jaebum, he looks young. Child-like, especially with that scowl on his face.

In response, Yugyeom purses his lips together, and blows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> err yeah hello 2019? i haven't edited this please forgive errors m(_ _)m


	2. Jaebum

The ghost is a poltergeist, Jaebum realizes immediately when spittle lands on his face.

“Hey,” he reprimands. He accepts the tissue Jinyoung offers, then points a finger at it. “Do not do that again.”

It all makes sense now that he thinks about it. The incidents Mark and Jinyoung described. The signs around the shop he’s seen. He wants to kick himself for not putting it together earlier, because if he had, he would have picked another way, wouldn’t have—

 _I can’t believe you bound me to you!!_ The poltergeist yells indignantly.

Or, perhaps a more accurate description is ‘thinks very loudly’, because Jaebum is pretty sure he and Jinyoung only heard that in their heads. Spirits don’t have vocal cords, after all.

“You what?”

Jaebum sighs, meeting Jinyoung’s confused gaze. “It was bound to the store, so the only way to release it and prevent it from making mischief was to bind it to something else,” he says, ignoring the annoyed kick that just passes harmlessly through his shin.

 _I’m not an_ it _,_ you’re _an it._

“Don’t think I thought this one through,” he continues. “I didn’t realize he was a poltergeist, merely a spirit that’s about to pass through. The less time they have left on our plane, the more they’re able to manifest,” he explains for Jinyoung’s sake.

“What I hadn’t considered is that the same happens, the more attachments they have. This spirit had gotten attached to the store, and possibly to you, which was why it could, well, do the things it did. Removing it from its source of attachments will weaken and eventually neutralize it.”

 _Still not an it_ , the poltergeist is muttering. And also, the only reason Jaebum had told Jinyoung all that was to explain his mistake, but the younger apparently doesn’t care about that at all, considering his next words question isn’t ‘how long will that take’, or ‘how can we make it weaker faster’, but,

“Aw, Yugyeom, you like me?”

 _You didn’t care that I was here when you bought it over, not even when the owner told you what had happened_ , it replies.

“Well, I just thought it very sad story,” Jinyoung shrugs. “You didn’t deserve what happened, nobody deserves something like that.”

Curious despite himself, Jaebum asks, “What happened?”

Jinyoung starts to reply but is bodily shushed. As in, the poltergeist puts itself between Jaebum and Jinyoung, shaking its head frantically. And surprise of surprises, Jinyoung actually nods in understanding. Jaebum will never understand people who form attachment to spirits. Such naivety! They’ll find it’ll come back to bite them in the ass one day.

“Fine, it’s not like I really wanted to know.” Or like the information isn’t public domain, but he doesn’t give a shit either way. “We’re going.”

“Go? What? Where? Why does Yugyeom have to go?”

And see, that’s exactly how attachment forms. Jaebum ought to get on that weird fringe morning talk show his mom has been nagging at him to do, which he has been procrastinating. He’s starting to feel like he’s duty-bound to publicize fundamental ground rules in dealing with spirits, chiefly not giving them power by using their names.

“It’s bound to me, it has to go wherever I go. Right now I want to go home and take a nice long nap, so that’s where we’re going.”

He snaps his fingers commandingly as he makes his way to the entrance, and despite its obvious reluctance, the poltergeist follows. It does keep up a steady stream of curses and insults aimed at him and most of his ancestors along the way but Jaebum ignores them easily. Thinking about what he’s going to eat for lunch is an excellent distraction.

He arrives home in good time, poltergeist in tow. Aside from a few token struggles, it hadn’t made much of a fuss, distracted by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the streets. Jaebum keep close watch of the way its mouth falls open when a motorbike roars past them, the way it flinches. Not surprising, considering it’s been stuck in the bookstore for as long as it has. It must all look like a completely new world. It’s… oddly adorable, the childlike wonder, he finds himself thinking, then immediately shakes his mind free of it.

Murmuring the incantation for release, he lets the poltergeist revel in the sudden freedom for a moment, before binding it once more to the building, ignoring the bellow of rage.

“My house is larger than Jinyoung’s store,” he tells the poltergeist. “If you behave, I’ll let you move about the compound.” It’s a generous offer; the lands surrounding his family home are extensive. “For now, you’re confined to the lower floor. Try not to break anything, I’m going to take a nap.”

The poltergeist curses after him colorfully as he climbs the stairs.

 

He startles awake from his nap with a growing sense of dread. A quick glance at his phone confirms that it’s nearly eight at night. He’s slept for four sound hours, which is typical on normal days but should not be possible with him not alone in the house. It’s quiet, much too unnaturally quiet.

After a quick splash of cold water on his face to wake himself up, Jaebum heads down the stairs. The poltergeist is staring at the fish in his aquarium, barely acknowledging his presence. It’s also absently petting Nora, curled up on the arm of the couch next to it. The domesticity of the scene doesn’t sit quite right, so Jaebum clicks his tongue to call Nora over.

Picking her up, he clears his throat. “I’m surprised you didn’t break anything.”

The poltergeist levels him with a look of utter betrayal and okay, Jaebum probably deserves that. As he does Nora’s disapproving mew as she pads back to the couch, ducking Jaebum’s scratching fingers.

“You’ve made friends, I see.”

When no reply is forthcoming, Jaebum shrugs and makes his way to the kitchen. He’s starving, having skipped lunch earlier, and decides on a quick omelette on top of some leftover rice. He cracks eggs into a bowl, adds salt and pepper and ham, and pours it into the sizzling pan. The sound and smell attracts both the poltergeist and Nora into the kitchen, and former watching as Jaebum drops a bit of ham onto the floor for the cat.

Figuring the least he can do is to offer to feed it, he says, “I’ll set out some _jeon_ and tea for you. Or do you prefer _soju_?” When no reply is forthcoming, Jaebum turns and shrugs at the suspicious look on the other’s face. “You’re a guest, I’m the host, I can’t be hospitable?”

_More like you’re the jailer and I’m your prisoner._

Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Tea it is then.”

He leaves his food to cool while he whips up a quick batter for the _jeon_. There are eyes on his every move but he ignores them, unconcerned. The poltergeist ought to learn from example. He’s going to be here a long time, after all.

The batter goes into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. As he waits for the liquid to solidify under the heat, he grabs his plate and cuts off a generous piece of omelette.

“You can come in, you know, you don’t have to hover at the doorway like that.”

He grins and the poltergeist gets a strange, almost strangled look on his face—from gratitude, it must be—when he stuffs the cooked eggs into his mouth. Jaebum chews once, twice, and promptly spits it out.

“What the fuck?”

The omelette is _sweet_.

The poltergeist disappears with a triumphant cackle that shakes the ceiling fan, clattering the odds and ends on the kitchen counter. The racket is joined in a discordant chorus by Nora, who mews loudly as she sprints out into the living room. She sounds entertained, the traitor.

“What the _fuck_.”

Jaebum scowls, reaching for the salt canister. One taste and he realizes it has been replaced with sugar. Wondering what else is lying in wait for him, he takes a cursory look around, but everything else seems untouched. Well. He’ll find out one way or the other. For now, he’s got a poltergeist to curse.

 

It takes a while before the poltergeist realizes that the pranks don’t scare or annoy Jaebum at all. This is despite the fact Jaebum confined it to the sugar canister for a good two hours after, its pleas for mercy music to Jaebum’s ears. It happens a few more times, until Jaebum switches tactics and decides to ignore it. Poltergeists feed off attention, after all. They’re a little bit like cats in that respect.

So the more intense and heinous the pranks get, the more unbothered Jaebum remains. He sweeps up messes, puts back whatever is out of place, disposes of dead critters left around the house after he checks for the poltergeist’s energy signature to see if it had anything to do with their demise. It’s been zero for seven so far, but the jokes on the poltergeist; Jaebum has been a cat owner his entire life.

Still, it gets tiring, and Nora’s gaze was getting increasingly accusatory whenever they snipe at each other, although it lacks any real heat these days. So one morning after a cold oatmeal breakfast (don’t ask him how his toast got burnt), he sits the poltergeist down, in a manner of speaking, to lay the ground rules. No more dead animals, and no more pranks involving food. In return, Jaebum will give it free rein of the entire house, his bedroom excluded, and the woods around it.  

“You’ll be able to roam freely within the boundary of the blessed land, no restrictions,” Jaebum tells the shape slowly shimmering into view in front of him. It’s sitting cross-legged on his kitchen counter, dangerously close to the milk. Jaebum shoos it aside.  “But only if you behave.” At his feet, Nora sounds her approval.

 _Fine_.

“Fine.”

The stiff nods they exchange are as good as any pact.

 

Younghyun shows up two weeks later, wagging a finger in Jaebum’s face when he answers the door. Nora rubs up against his shins affectionately.

“By gods your house stinks of spirits,” he starts without preamble.

“Hello, Jaebum, how have you been, Jaebum,” Jaebum intones, but opens the door to let the fox spirit in.

“We know how you’ve been, correction, _knew_ how you’ve been up until two weeks ago when you stopped dropping by for food and blocked the place from scrying. Sungjin’s worried. ”

Handing Younghyun the last of the coffee in the pot, Jaebum shrugs, saying, “He could have called.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees the afghan on the couch start to move, but too late, Younghyun sits right on top of it, patting his lap in encouragement. Nora obligingly leaps onto him. Jaebum watches her knead at his jean covered knee, just the slightest bit perturbed. Why is his cat friendlier with everyone else than him?

“He did. He called Mark, who told us everything. A _poltergeist_ , Jaebum?” The way it drips with judgment, it could have been an invective, and Jaebum can’t help but take offense.

“He’s not malicious,” he tells Younghyun, to a very pointed narrowing of upturned eyes.

“ _He_ ? I thought _ahjumeoni_ had taught you better.”

She had, and Jaebum has no idea when Yugyeom’s pronoun shifted in his head, but it feels right, so he just replies with a shrug. “He’s only pulled a few harmless pranks here and there, more out of boredom than anything.”

He’s not lying, not really. Even after their truce, Yugyeom had continued to hide his keys, pulled up the flowers from their beds, and on one memorable occasion, replaced his toothpaste with shampoo. When Jaebum confronted him, Yugyeom had given a ghostly shrug and told Jaebum he wasn’t breaking the rules, he hadn’t touched the food nor were there dead animals involved.

That’s when Jaebum realized ignoring the problem (in this case, a vexing poltergeist) isn’t going to be helpful in the long run and decides to give the proverbial carrot a try. When Yugyeom’s next prank involved taking the scissors to every pair of jeans he owned and cutting out the knees, Jaebum just swallows his rage, smiles, and announces his gratitude for upping his style game. The incredulity that had permeated the air had kept him smug for the rest of the week.

The mischief truly tapered off then, and aside from a few windows banging open in the middle of the night, and a couple of puddles strategically placed to not ruin anything, Yugyeom mostly laid off his attacks. More importantly, he never includes Nora in them. In return, Jaebum plies him with soju and later, chocolate shakes and fried finger foods that didn’t exist when the poltergeist was alive and was thus fascinated with. It made him much more amenable and a lot less destructive. In fact, Yugyeom downright turns friendly and even helpful, and Jaebum finds he has a wicked sense of humor to boot.

He tells Younghyun all this sans the last part, rolling his eyes when the fox spirit pulls a face. “You like him,” he concludes disgustedly. Jaebum ignores the way the bowl on the counter rattles. Younghyun doesn’t, squinting in the direction of the sound before turning his attention back to Jaebum. “You actually like the poltergeist.”

“Like is strong term. I’ve merely gotten used to him.”

Younghyun isn’t listening though, he’s already standing and making to leave. “I gotta tell the rest of the guys, the greatest exorcist of our generation, felled by a pretty young thing.”

“Technically he’s older than me,” he says, causing Younghyun to whirl around on the stoop. He pushes the accusatory finger away from his face with a scowl.

“You didn’t deny the pretty part!” He all but shrieks, throwing his hands up in a gesture of defeat and stomping down the driveway.

It’s not until the last of the bushy red tail disappears that Jaebum feels it, the cheekiness more than anything making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turns to see Yugyeom grinning at him, mischief leaking from every temporarily corporeal particle.

_You think I’m pretty?_

Ah fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha i totally forgot to publish this last week whoops 
> 
> poor jaebum, always felled by a pretty face


End file.
